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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26126962">the light in the darkness</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoraClavia/pseuds/CoraClavia'>CoraClavia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: Voyager</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Chakotay Has Feelings, Episode Tag, Episode: s04e19 The Killing Game Part 2, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, drown me in feelings, lots of feelings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:55:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,333</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26126962</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoraClavia/pseuds/CoraClavia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When the battles end, the soldiers sleep.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>172</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the light in the darkness</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Many thanks to mylittleredgirl, who has basically been my personal Virgil guiding me through the emotional upheaval that is a re-watch of this wonderful chaotic show. </p><p>On to the next level, Little Red.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>By the time the last of the Hirogen leave the ship, Chakotay’s fairly sure time no longer exists. Or if it does, it doesn’t mean much anymore.</p><p>The crew have been scattered around the ship, such as it is, and as they’ve realized the hunters have left, they’re starting to communicate.</p><p>Eventually they start to stumble into the mess hall, one and two and three at a time. Many of them drop to the floor or prop themselves up on each other’s shoulders. Every one of them is weary and dirty, worn nearly beyond words, but every time a new person walks in, Chakotay can see the relief on the captain’s face. Every person who walks in is one less body they’ll find later.</p><p>The Doctor has reported that Sickbay is swamped; he’s asked Tom to run triage, and anyone with basic first aid skills can tend to minor injuries in the mess hall. </p><p>It takes Chakotay a while, but he finally convinces Kathryn to sit down long enough to let Tom look at her leg. She, of course, would rather walk around and check on literally every other person she can find. </p><p>Tom peels back the ripped fabric of her trousers enough to clean the wound. “It’s not too bad, Captain. No infection. The doctor’s still working on severe injuries, but come by sickbay in the next day or two, and he can get you fixed up for good.”</p><p>“Of course.” </p><p>Tom finishes applying a bandage and moves on to the next person, and Janeway takes a moment to suck in a long breath before looking up at Chakotay. “Commander -”</p><p>He offers her a hand to pull her to her feet, and he doesn’t miss the unsteadiness in her frame, the slight hesitation, like she isn’t sure she can quite stand just yet.</p><p>As she sways, still gripping his hand, Chakotay sees Tuvok across the room, watching them, face impassive. </p><p>Tuvok glances at the captain, then back at Chakotay, and nods very slightly.</p><p><em>Good man, Tuvok</em>.</p><p>Chakotay reaches gently for her arm and guides her towards the doors leading out into the corridor. “Come on.”</p><p>“Where are we going?”</p><p>“We’re getting some rest.”</p><p>“Chakotay – no, I have to –”</p><p><em>“Kathryn.”</em> His voice comes out a little harsher than he means it, and he immediately softens his tone. “Please.” </p><p>She doesn’t protest further, which is, itself, a surprise. Just sighs, surveying the damage around them. Her door is coated in smoke, pocked with some kind of explosive damage, slightly warped</p><p>She’s limping, but he knows better than to push. So he contents himself with a hand at her back, hovering close as she limps beside him. </p><p>When she inputs her code, there’s a grinding noise, something like crunching metal, but the door doesn’t move.</p><p>After it doesn’t work the second time, she stares at it blankly, like she’s trying to force it to open with her mind, and Chakotay finally decides this is a lost cause.</p><p>“Okay, next option.”</p><p>His quarters are the next door, and thankfully, his doors slide open without incident. He leans in cautiously, looking around, and lets out a thankful breath. It’s messy, his things strewn around, but nothing’s actively on fire, smoking, or in the process of exploding.</p><p>Kathryn limps in behind him. “It’s not so bad.”</p><p>“It really isn’t.” He was half-expecting a wasteland. He hopes her quarters are no worse, behind that unmoving door. The last thing this woman needs is her last remaining bit of sanctuary completely destroyed. “Well - make yourself at home, I guess.”</p><p>That gets a soft chuckle out of her, which he takes as a good sign. Despite moving a little slower than usual, thanks to her leg, she helps him set his chairs upright. “Are you sure we shouldn’t go back to the mess hall?”</p><p>He shakes his head. “Tuvok’s got everything covered, and he can call us if we’re needed. We agreed you should take some time to rest.” </p><p>It’s not exactly true. The agreement was nonverbal. But she doesn’t call him on his semi-lie, which tells him she’s even more tired than she was letting on.</p><p>His bed is rumpled but seems more or less intact; he brushes it off and shakes out his comforter just to be safe. “I know your quarters are right next door, but since your door won’t open, do you mind sleeping here?”</p><p>“Right now, I could fall asleep standing up,” she admits, pinching the bridge of her nose. “But I don’t want to push you onto the floor, Chakotay. I can just as easily -”</p><p><em>“I</em> can take the couch,” he interrupts her firmly. “It’s mine, anyway.”  </p><p>She fixes him with a suspicious look, and he holds his breath, because ‘stubborn’ is a pale word to describe Kathryn Janeway, but she sighs and accepts it. “Suit yourself.”</p><p>When she finally sits on the edge of his bed, he really sees it. He sees her finally let go, finally relinquish the mask she wears almost all of her life. </p><p>For the first time he can remember, she looks <em>small</em>.</p>
<hr/><p>His boxing gear is sitting on the floor of his closet; he digs through the bag and finds his towel. He checks the sink - water’s running at a slow trickle, which seems like a pretty big miracle right now - and wets it.</p><p>Kathryn’s still sitting on his bed; she’s kicked her shoes off and tossed them over by the wall. She doesn’t look up as he kneels in front of her, brushing a gentle hand over her arm. “Let me.”</p><p>She nods slowly, and he brushes her hair back from her face, tucking it carefully behind her ears.</p><p>He wipes her face as gently as he can, cleaning the sweat and blood and grime from hours upon hours - days? – who knows anymore? – of fighting a literal war across the ship.</p><p>It’s more a gesture than anything real. Her leg is the more serious problem, and it’s fine for now. In the grand scheme of things, washing her face is a small thing. But he knows her. And he knows himself. And they both need this.</p><p>“Kathryn?”</p><p>Her eyes finally lift to meet his, and he catches his breath. He doesn’t remember the last time he saw her like this. </p><p>(There are moments, here and there, when he <em>sees</em> the burdens she carries, like the dark, dense weight appears, heavy and crushing on her slim shoulders.)</p><p>She shuts her eyes, and he doesn’t hear anything, but he can see the tears silently streaming down her cheeks.</p><p>She doesn’t protest when he brushes them away gently, just draws in a shaky breath. It’s the kind of vulnerability she never lets herself show, but she’s letting him see it. Just him.</p><p>“It’s okay, Kathryn.” His throat aches. “It’s okay. You can cry.”</p><p>She cries silently, unmoving, like she’s so unaccustomed to letting herself break down that she’s not sure what to do, and it cracks his chest and hurts his heart because she’s in <em>pain</em> and he needs her to be well.</p><p>Her whole body sags, she sways, and he immediately reaches out to let her lean on him. Her breathing is coming faster, short, hitching gasps, as her hands curl around the edges of his jacket. He lets her breathe and tremble and just lean into him, everything she doesn’t have the luxury of doing as a starship captain with the weight of the galaxy on her shoulders.</p><p>It’s a silent, perfect, tiny moment. And when she kisses him, it’s not even really movement, just a scant centimeter, a breath between them. </p><p>It’s so quiet. Understated. So chaste, just lips touching and her soft hands on his face. It’s as much for comfort as anything else.</p><p><em>Spirits</em>. He loves this woman. Loves her, has always loved her, he’s utterly consumed by it, and right now he doesn’t have the strength to push it away. It’s the one constant in his life, he thinks; even now, surrounded by hell, on a damaged ship thousands of lightyears from home, this warm glow is the single thing that keeps him going, the gentle light in the midst of chaos.</p><p>He presses his forehead to hers, cradling her face with his hands and wiping away salty tearstains, and steals one more soft kiss.</p><p>Ignoring his protesting knees, he pushes himself up, settles next to her on the edge of the bed where he can get his arms around her. “Come here.” He tugs her closer, lying back on the rumpled bedspread, tugging his blanket over them. “We’re both exhausted.”</p><p>“I guess you’re right,” she whispers, curling up beside him, her head on the opposite side of his pillow.</p><p>“Just relax, Kathryn.” He smoothes a gentle hand over her hair. “I’m right here.”</p><p>She smiles gently at that. “You always are.”  </p><p>“Well, unless I’m mind-stamped into some 20th-century Army captain.”</p><p>“Ah, yes, Captain Miller.” Her voice sounds amused. “Don’t worry. He was nice. Very helpful.”</p><p>“Well, I’m glad Captain Miller was there for you.” At least he didn’t inadvertantly push her away. That’s a relief.</p><p>“You know, I think he had a bit of a thing for me,” she murmurs, brushing her hand absently over his ribs. “Called me a ‘gung-ho gal.’”</p><p>“What’s the protocol here?”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“Should I feel jealous of myself?”</p><p>She laughs at that, soft and a little shaky, turning her face into his chest. “Oh, no. Not at all. I’d rather be here with you.”  </p><p>He presses a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead. They’ve been through a lifetime or two, it seems, in the space of a few years. And even though his heart has grown accustomed to the long slow burn of affection, it hits him hard sometimes. Times like this.</p><p>His love has run wild so long it’s just become a full part of him now. Even when they argue, even when she drives him up a wall, it’s there, simmering gently, twined through his heart so thoroughly that it’s fused with his own body, pumping blood through his arteries, keeping him alive. </p><p>Even at the simplest of times, they live complicated lives.</p><p>But right now, for just a while, they can lie here and hold each other and pretend they’re allowed to love each other the way they already do.</p>
<hr/><p>He doesn’t know how long he sleeps, but he wakes up to find himself spooned up behind her, one arm draped loosely over her waist. </p><p>Her breathing is slow and even, and despite everything, he shuts his eyes, breathing in the warmth of her, just taking in her presence. </p><p>She’s so slight. He forgets sometimes, even when she’s in front of him. Her energy is so strong, her aura so powerful, but without those heels, she’s fairly petite. And here, like this, he just wants to wrap her up, tuck her against his body. Shield her from the hundred thousand things she has to bear alone.</p><p><em>Not alone</em>, he promises, pressing his face to her hair. <em>You’re never alone, Kathryn</em>.</p><p>It’s been - how long? does time have any meaning? - a while, he thinks, when he hears the chirp of his commbadge. <em>“Tuvok to Commander Chakotay.”</em></p><p>He holds his breath, looking down at the sleeping woman beside him, but she must really be exhausted; she just takes a breath and stays asleep.</p><p>So he eases out of the bed, tugs the blanket carefully back over her, and crosses the room, pitching his voice low as he answers. “Chakotay here.”</p><p>
  <em>“Is something wrong, Commander?”</em>
</p><p>“No, just trying to stay quiet. The captain’s still asleep.”</p><p><em>“Understood. She should continue to rest.</em>”</p><p>“Agreed.” Not for the first time, Chakotay is thankful for Tuvok’s genetic noncompatibility with ‘making a big deal out of this.’ “Was there something you needed?”</p><p>
  <em>“The Doctor is continuing to work, and he believes he will be able to treat the captain in a few hours. Mr. Neelix and I have rounded up most of the crew, and we will soon have preliminary personnel and damage reports.”</em>
</p><p>“Good.” He looks back at Kathryn, who’s still asleep. “She’ll be ready for it.”</p><p>
  <em>“There is, however, no reason to wake her at the moment. She will, doubtless, wish to assist.”</em>
</p><p>“True.” Chakotay scrubs his hands over his face and checks the chronometer. “I assume she’ll be awake sooner, but at the latest, I’ll give her another two hours. She’s exhausted.”</p><p>
  <em>“Understood, Commander. I will notify you of any emergencies.”</em>
</p><p>“Thank you, Tuvok.”</p><p>He does his best to slide into bed without waking her, but as he settles, she lets out a long breath, turning over to burrow against him. “Mmmm.”</p><p>“Sorry,” he whispers, curling his arm around her and tugging the blanket back up to cover them.</p><p>“S’okay.” Her voice is so soft, barely more than a breath. “Anything important?”</p><p>“Not yet. They’ll call us if they need us.”</p><p>“All right.”</p><p>It’s maybe the first time he’s ever seen her simply accept <em>We can deal with it later</em>, and he thinks – he hopes – that it’s at least partially because she trusts him enough to shut her eyes again and share his pillow for a while longer.</p><p>Her body is soft against his, her head tucked under his chin. Her breathing is slow and even, and for a moment he thinks maybe she’s drifted off again, but then he feels her fingertips brush against his cheek.</p><p>“I couldn’t do any of this without you,” she whispers, so softly he almost misses it. “And I wouldn’t want to.”</p><p>She’s asleep again in seconds, leaving him awake, tears in his eyes.</p><p>As tired as he is, he stays awake as long as he can, breathing in the warmth of her, silently thanking any spirits willing to listen for letting his life intersect with hers. He’s tired, he’s sore, there’s endless toil and pain ahead of them when they wake up, and even then there’s a lifelong journey looming beyond that.</p><p>But right now, there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.</p><p> </p>
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